The Ghosts of My Mind
by missmiramae
Summary: The mockingjays above are singing Rue's lullaby. They continue to warble the melancholy tune to each other, inviting others to do the same. Soon I am aware of nothing but the sharp notes encompassing my being, and the sky seems to darken at the sound of the song that had become a death sentence.


_Deep in the meadow,_

_ Under the Willow…_

I am jolted awake from my deep sleep, a reverberating scream ringing in my ears. I can feel my skin, slick with sweat, exuding heat into our bed.

My eyes are clouding around the edges. I know what is coming. I shakily sit up and scoot back so that I am curled in a ball against the headboard. I place my head between my knees.

I am in the arena. Huddled under a fallen tree, I can feel my body shuddering from the sobs that can't seem to escape my throat. All I can see is Rue's blood- dripping from the spear that she so calmly pulled out of her abdomen, slowly soaking into her t-shirt as I held her on the forest floor. She had looked so peaceful in my mind, lying encircled by the wildflowers that I had wreathed around her face. Surely she wasn't really dead?

I watch the tears drip down from my face onto the silver quiver that rests in my lap. I couldn't save her. I didn't make it in time. I could have, oh I could have. Had I just been a few seconds sooner, the district one boy would have died by my arrow but dear little Rue would still be alive. I am overcome by how incredibly alone I feel, hearing the crinkling of leaves as the wind rustles by.

The mockingjays above are singing Rue's lullaby. They continue to warble the melancholy tune to each other, inviting others to do the same. Soon I am aware of nothing but the sharp notes encompassing my being, and the sky seems to darken at the sound of the song that had become a death sentence.

I come to, pushing through my hazy vision, searching desperately for something real.

Faint twilight falls onto the bedroom floor from the open window, the curtains swaying with the breeze. A faint chill falls upon me, and I shiver in response. I look over at Peeta, who slumbers undisturbed in the bed next to me. I'm glad to see my fit did not wake him.

Suddenly I register a muffled sound coming from down the hall. I inch carefully off of the mattress, trying to stay as quiet as possible. My bare feet pad down the creaky wood floor of our house, following what I now realize are soft sobs.

I peek inside the nursery. My little girl has covered herself with her sheet, and I see her body quivering under it. I rest my hand on her shape and gently pull the slip away.

Seeing that it is me, she reaches her arms out and I wrap her up, pulling her tight into my body. I wipe away the tears that rim her reddening eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

She has to recover her voice again before she responds. "Ni-night-mare," she chokes out in a tight sob.

I rock her back and forth in silence for a moment, letting her relax in my arms. "Do you want to tell me?"

She looks up into my eyes and starts. "We-we went to-to the mea-dow to pla-ay," she glances over at her brother, snoring like his father in the bed against the wall. "But when-en we got there, the flow-owers were go-gone," her little voice hitches and her lips tremble. "It was dark, and it wa-as so scar-ary."

I stare at the wall, petting her hair as I force myself to speak. "It's okay. You're okay now. It's not real. You're fine."

We keep huddled, rocking back and forth, and I almost forget which one of us is the one being comforted. I do not move, suddenly afraid that if I do my girl will disappear and I will return to my own nightmares.

Once the gray light of dawn begins to peek through my children's room, I remove myself from her bed and let her now sleeping form rest on her own. Crossing over to the other bed, I plant a kiss on my son's forehead, admiring how much he looks like his daddy.

From their window, I can almost make out the distant meadow. At this time of night, the rich green and bright-colored wildflowers seem to have been replaced with more ominous versions of themselves. An eerie fog swirls mysteriously around it, creating ghosts that dance in the moonlight. The lullaby returns, and I can almost hear it playing audibly in my mind.

_ Lay down your head,_

_ And close your eyes…_

When I crawl back under the covers beside Peeta, I am shaking like a leaf in the chill of the night. I feel his arms wrap around me shortly after my eyes close, so that we are almost nose-to-nose. I can feel myself nodding off. I whisper so quietly I can barely hear myself.

"Peeta, do you think they're still with us?"

I can feel his gaze training on me even in the darkness. "Who?"

His breath warms my face. "The ones we loved."

He does not answer for a while. When he replies, the utter gentleness and honesty in his tone makes me realize this is a question that he has asked himself many times before. "Yes. I think so."

Satisfied by his answer, I allow the night to lull me to sleep, comforted by his presence despite the murk of the shadows that surround me, inside and out.


End file.
